


Persistence

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2017 [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Illya searches for Napoleon in an abandoned THRUSH satrap.





	Persistence

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt 1 of Inktober for Writers: Searching

Illya ran as fast as he could down the darkened hallways of the abandoned satrap. It was a familiar scene to him—looking for a lost partner who had been taken captive by THRUSH. So many times, this had happened before, both in this same way, and sometimes, with their roles switched, but it was a maddeningly terrifying experience each time.

Each room was in a state of disarray—struggles and fights had occurred, and Napoleon had, no doubt, been a part of them. They’d have questioned him because of his rank and knowledge, and he would have resisted.

But the question that always haunted Illya was whether or not they would have killed him for it.

A sudden movement in another room caused Illya to rush there, his Special drawn and ready to tranquilize any THRUSH straggler. He paused in his tracks, though, to see that it was Napoleon, struggling to get to his feet after clearly having been in a brawl with a man who was now unconscious on the floor.

Napoleon was shaky on his feet, and Illya was, momentarily, taken aback at the sight of his partner with a split lip and a black eye, and the haggard expression of a person who had not slept in days.

Despite his condition, there was a warm look of recognition in Napoleon’s eyes as he noticed Illya’s presence in the room.

“Hey…” he said, giving him a feeble wave.

“…Oh, Napoleon…”

“‘m alright,” Napoleon insisted.

“You have a very bizarre definition of alright,” Illya said, sounding far less worried than he actually was. “Or could it be that I have less of a grasp on the English language than I first thought?”

Napoleon managed a wan smile.

“You’re fine.”

“But _you_ are not,” Illya argued. “I need to take you to Medical right away.”

“No, no; I’ll be fine… I’ll…” Napoleon trailed off, glancing at Illya with a glance that was looking more out-of-focus with every passing second.

Realizing that Napoleon was ready to pass out, Illya rushed to him as Napoleon fell forward into his arms.

“…Bit late… for fireflies… isn’t it?” Napoleon mumbled.

“Quite,” Illya said. “You rest for now. I will look after you.”

“Thanks… for finding me…”

“Shh,” Illya said, gently. “You have done the same for me before. It is merely my turn this time.”

Napoleon mumbled something unintelligible as the comforting embrace of his partner finally allowed him to shut his eyes. He was out almost instantly, and as Illya saw to the capture of the fallen THRUSHie that Napoleon had defeated, he still did not let go of his partner until Medical arrived to take him back—and even then, did not leave his side.

Napoleon was soon recovering in the Medical ward. He spent most of his time still out cold, but did regain consciousness briefly to see Illya there; satisfied, he closed his eyes again, aiming to sleep some more.

“Thank you, too,” Illya said, softly. “For holding on.”

Napoleon responded by weakly squeezing Illya’s hand before falling back into a deep sleep, and Illya continued to watch over him.


End file.
